He pulls out just as he explodes

Dear Sir Williard,

I had to take a break from writing as recalling my recent actions brought about a confusing combination of both abject shame and deep satisfaction. I took the time to bathe and change into a clean shirt in an attempt to clear my thoughts before I put pen to paper again.

Rereading the paragraphs above, I wonder your Lordship, if you could ever again hold me in respect. I hope that I may regain some small standing in your eyes as you read this account by assuring you that I did my best not to compound that heinous act by leaving behind a bastard child. In truth, the thought of Miss Peach swelling with my child was the final erotic straw that caused what little control I had to snap. I could feel the seed surging from my testes and it was with only the greatest effort that I was able to pull from Miss Peach's sex and spew strings of cum onto her round breasts, white throat and surprised face. It was a small act of rebellion on my part Sir Williard, but in spite of my multiple failings during this encounter I console my bruised sense of honour with this small act. I found myself standing over the naked and bound Miss Peach looking at the ropes of white pearls that glistened in the bright afternoon light, slowly recovering from the madness that had possessed me. I do not recall saying anything to the Miss's Silver and Indigo but I imagine that when I turned to confront the two voyeurs, only partially clothed and with my manhood still proudly rampant they did not need me to articulate the anger and contempt I was feeling.

As the pair of beautiful but loathsome vixens fled I turned my attention back to the young woman I had so brutally assaulted. She lay back on the bench, surprisingly relaxed even in her perilous position and smiled shyly up at me as she licked at the cum that landed across her face. Perhaps, like with me, the act of our union somehow broke the grip of the primal desire, but for whatever reason Miss Peach was content to lay back and watch me as I tried to make things right. Without a word (for my intensive social training had not prepared me for what to say in this situation) I used my cravat dipped in a convenient fountain to wash away my seed. It was no doubt the coolness of the damp cloth on her breasts that caused the delightful puckering of her nipples and the soft moan to escape her lips, but I found I had to restrain the urge to throw myself onto her nubile body and fill her once again with my manhood.

In the distance I could hear the sounds of an approaching party and I turned my attention to the incriminating smear of red that marked her inner thigh. I can assure you your Lordship, that if washing the near perfect breasts of Miss Peach had tempted me, then seeing the evidence of her innocence on the smooth white skin of her thigh was almost unbearable. I cleaned her to the best of my ability in the short amount of time I had, wiping the blood from her legs and the soft blonde curls of her pelvis. It was only then that I turned my attention to freeing her from the elastic vines. Now after I've had a chance to reflect, I find myself wondering as you no doubt are as well, why I kept the young lady secured as I cleaned her off instead of freeing her immediately? I can only claim that my mind, although no longer totally controlled by the savage urges of before had not yet cleared entirely of those primitive desires and having a naked bound plaything to care for was very satisfying.

The gay voices of the group was getting much louder; it must be, I realised in a panic, some of the party I had left behind in the dining hall, perhaps even Miss Peach's parents. I had only enough time to free her hands before my nerves failed me, and so gathering up my ruined cravat I cravenly fled the scene leaving the lovely victim to free her legs from the vines that bound her to the stone bench. I do not know if the young blonde was discovered or not, but by the time I got back to my hotel balcony there was no sign of the encounter at all. A few colonial couples were strolling through the gardens, but there was no sign of Miss Peach or her two wicked compa...

There is a knocking at my door, Sir Williard, a bellhop who says he has an urgent note for me.